


Dreamcatcher

by Shotgun_sinner



Series: Love Will be the Death of You [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Developing Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Jealous Will Graham, M/M, Mild Angst, Praise Kink, Top Will Graham, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, canoodling, tummy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotgun_sinner/pseuds/Shotgun_sinner
Summary: Follows "Love with be the Death of You". Super helpful to read that one, first.Will and Hannibal navigate their new relationship, getting to know one another after their intimacy.Takes place over the course of Season two, following the timeline if certain things happened differently. OR my take on a smutty season two.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Love Will be the Death of You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935490
Comments: 43
Kudos: 246





	Dreamcatcher

**Author's Note:**

> This was written, mostly, because CorneliaGrey and I wanted Will worshipping the adorable tummy of Hannibal Lecter. Things spiraled out of my control, and almost 20K words later, I have this thing. 
> 
> Featuring tum tum praise, Hannibal's silk underwear from that screen still that was cut, and slightttt sugar daddy Hannibal Lecter. All things I enjoy terribly. Hope you enjoy, fellow Hannigramers.

Will wonders what the hell he’s thinking as he walks into work the following morning. He’s gotten no sleep yet, but that’s not the thing that’s bothersome. Insomnia is kind of his motus operandi, you could say.

It’s that he’s sore, and fucked out, and blissfully content, and being here is like submerging his whole, naked, body into a picker bush. He wanted to stay in Hannibal’s warm bed, sucking his skin and touching his flesh, and work was completely in the way of that.

He also had to leave before the sun came up because he still had to drive an hour to his house to let his dogs out and feed them, before driving his ass an hour back to Baltimore to get to work on time. Maybe Hannibal’s suggestion to find something closer for the both of them was actually a good one.

His first lecture is tedious. His throat is sore from all the moaning he’s been doing, his back still hurts from being fucked against a ladder two nights ago, and all he can focus on is how his students are staring at the bruises all over his throat. He’s picking up lust from a few of them, as though they had never seen him as a sexual being before seeing evidence that he is capable of fucking someone. It’s revolting, and distracting, and he wishes again that he had just called out.

Jack comes in after his final lecture, and his posture is rigid, his face decidedly angry. “You got a minute?” he asks, his voice tight with something that suggests he wants to be yelling.

Will tips his head up from straightening the essays on his desk, tipping it to the left a bit so Jack can see the damage that he’s no doubt heard about several times at this point. It has the desired effect, as Jack grimaces and looks away. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Alana came in to see me this morning, she had some concerns about an incident at Dr. Lecter’s house last night.”

“Hannibal and I had a misunderstanding about the… exclusivity of our relationship. I sorted it out. There’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Jack’s face is turning interesting colors as Will sticks folders into his shoulder bag, and Will bites his lip to keep from grinning. “I… you were certain he was the ripper. I don’t understand what the hell changed, Will.”

“I thought he was the ripper when my brain was cooking in my head, Jack.” Will says with a sigh, allowing his face to smooth into an expression of regret. “I also thought I was being followed everywhere I went by a giant, black, stag with black feathers. I’d also wake up on my roof, sometimes, without knowing how I got there. I also showed up at Hannibal’s house one night, holding the imagined re-animated corpse of Garrett Jacob Hobbs at gunpoint, when there wasn’t actually anyone there. I was a fucking mess. Me thinking Hannibal was the ripper is probably the least of my crazy shit, back then.”

Jack looks concerned, his fingers tapping against Will’s desk as he thinks it over. “So you get out of prison and immediately begin a… uh, relationship, with Dr. Lecter?”

“I spent a long time imagining that I would die in prison. I resolved that if I ever got out, I would do what the hell I wanted, when I wanted to do it. Life is short, and what I want… well, is Hannibal.”

“There are ethical boundaries, Will. If he’s taking advantage,”

“No,” Will laughs. “He was never my therapist. If anyone is taking advantage, it’s me.”

Jack makes a noise in his throat, his fist tightening at his side. “Well, we’ll need to get you another therapist. You can’t ethically see Hannibal… while… uh, you understand, I’m sure.”

“I’ll see him or no one at all,” Will says easily. “Besides, it’ll look better for you. The FBI won’t be paying for his therapy, I’ll just talk to him outside of work when I need to. We can amend his confidentiality agreement.”

Jack mulls that over, nodding eventually. “That would look better for us. Not having its top profiler as an official patient in any capacity.”

“Uh huh,” Will agrees. 

“The bruises, Will. They’re unbelievably unprofessional.”

Will laughs, “We got carried away. I’ll… try to do better.”

“So, you do not believe Hannibal is the ripper anymore?”

“He doesn’t have time for that, Jack. Think about it. He works full-time as a therapist with a private practice he needs to drive to and home from. He is a socialite who is seen out at every god damned stuffy, pretentious, gathering there is. He goes to the opera frequently. He has someone over for dinner almost every night. Dinners that take fucking hours to put together. He goes to the gym. He barely has time to sleep, let alone butcher a human being and make elaborate displays.”

Jack looks… relieved. “So, you think it’s safe for me to go to dinner if he invites me? God, I miss the food.”

Will laughs, “It’s so damn good, and it’s not people, Jack.”

“Can you maintain a professional persona if we ask him to consult on a case? I need to know that him being there will not be a distraction.”

“I’m not a teenager,” Will says, although he’s not sure how his body will react to Hannibal at a crime scene just yet. “I can be an adult about it. Jesus.”

“Good,” Jack sighs. “You owe Alana a hell of an apology. You were wildly inappropriate last night.”

“Yeah,” Will grins. “I’m a jealous asshole. I’ll apologize.”

“Take care, Will,” Jack says quietly, and Will can still feel the fissure of tension rolling off of him as he walks away.

Will drives home, and he’s fucking exhausted. When he pulls into his driveway and sees the Bentley, then sees Hannibal standing on the porch while all of his dogs frolic around him, he’s decidedly less tired.

Will walks up the driveway, grinning at him as his dogs jump around his legs. He pats them as he walks up, greeting each one. “So, you just let yourself in my house and take care of my dogs, now?”

“I do have keys,” Hannibal grins. “And I’m making dinner in your abominably ill-equipped kitchen.”

“Thank you, darlin’.” Will teases. “Did you do laundry, too?”

“No,” Hannibal laughs. “But I did buy you a bedroom set for your empty bedroom upstairs.”

Will’s mouth hangs open in indignation. “You pushy bastard. Who asked you to do that?”

“No one, but if I’m expected to stay here on occasion, I won’t be sleeping on a pull-out couch, I assure you.”

Will walks up the steps, tugging Hannibal against his body and pressing a kiss to his mouth, which is returned eagerly by the older man. “Tell me it doesn’t have grape vines or fucking cherubs carved into the headboard, and I’ll accept whatever you bought.”

Hannibal wraps his arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I bought it with you in mind, so I doubt you’ll be very upset.”

“Let’s find out,” Will says, pulling away from Hannibal and heading into his house. The first thing he notices as he walks in is how suspiciously clean his living area is. The pull-out couch is put back together, and there are fucking throw pillows on the sofa that, Will concedes, look nice.

There are new pots and pans on the stove, simmering something that smells so good that Will’s mouth waters. He turns to Hannibal, his eyes suspicious. “Did you go to work today?”

“No,” Hannibal admits. “I woke up and immediately went shopping for things. Do you know same-day furniture delivery is generally frowned upon? I had to pay an exorbitant amount of money to make them do it.”

“You… why?” Will says, flabbergasted.

“Because,” Hannibal reasons, “you have animals to care for, and I do not. I imagine we’ll be spending more time here than at my home. I deserve comfort if that is to be the case.”

His bathroom is spotless, and there is now a real shower curtain over the liner that he owned, and it matches the room perfectly. All of Will’s toiletries are missing, suspiciously replaced with high-end shit in glass bottles that have black and chrome lettering. “You threw out my god damned aftershave?”

“The moment I walked in the door, yes.”

He heads up the stairs, noting the smell of paint and cringing as he does. His master bedroom has been completely renovated. All his casefiles are missing, as the room had been used as storage. There’s a queen bed against the far wall, as a king would not fit in the room. It’s exactly something Will would have chosen for himself, pine wood and sturdy looking. The room has been painted a pretty, moss green. It’s like Hannibal reached in his brain and pulled the exact shit he’d pick on his own out.

“I’m going to make the second bedroom a study,” Hannibal says presumptuously. “Somewhere we can both work when we need to. All of your casefiles are in there, for now.”

“I am not a fucking kept woman, Hannibal.” Will sasses, his face turning red. “I don’t need you to be my sugar daddy, or anything ridiculous like that.”

“Of course not,” Hannibal laughs. “This is for me. I require luxury. It’s a selfish gift, I assure you.”

Will relaxes at that. “You are very pretentious, it’s true.”

“Very,” Hannibal agrees. “I’m going to check on dinner.”

Will lingers in his bedroom, touching the fluffy comforter and bedsheets that are lovely in their cream-colored softness. He’s pissed off at the presumptuousness of the purchase, but even then he can’t wait to sleep in this bed.

He gathers some sleep clothes and takes a shower, annoyed at the delicious scent of his new shampoo and bar soap. His hair feels like silk as he’s toweling it dry, and it makes him even more angry. 

His deodorant is designer, and it smells even better than his shampoo and soap. His aftershave smells so clean and sharp he almost wants to put a spray nozzle on it and spray it all over his house.

He’s pissed off when he heads downstairs, storming into the kitchen to bitch Hannibal out. When he gets there, Hannibal’s crisp, white, shirtsleeves are rolled up, his tie is missing, and the throat buttons of his shirt are mostly undone, revealing a sliver of chest hair poking out.

Hannibal inhales as Will stands there drooling, and grins. “You smell good enough to eat, Will.”

“Some asshole threw out all my toiletries and replaced them with a _marinade_ ,” Will sasses back.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Hannibal laughs, stirring a pot with corded forearms. “Marinating you?”

“My shampoo is for women with curly hair, you arrogant ass.”

“Your curls need some tending,” Hannibal reasons, tipping his head to stretch the muscles in his neck, and Will wants to ease the tension there with his mouth. “It’s not specifically for women, by the way.”

“The bottle is _pink_ ,” Will grits out.

“Does that infringe on your masculinity?” Hannibal wonders, his tone tipping towards clinical. “You can reassert your male dominance by fucking me, later.”

Will wants to chew him out, but his brain is stuck in the mud at the thought of sliding into the muscled body in front of him. He makes his way around the counter to wrap his arms around Hannibal’s waist. He rests his hands on the gentle swell of Hannibal’s stomach, trailing his fingers over it and wishing Hannibal wasn’t wearing a shirt, right now. 

“This isn’t elegant,” Hannibal says as he twists out of Will’s grip and ladles a thick stew into bowls. “It’s just beef stew.”

“Is it? Or is it long pig?”

“Beef,” Hannibal chuckles. “Long pig is too oily for a stew.”

They carry their bowls to the kitchen table, which has been oiled lovingly and brought back to a beautiful shine. There’s a vase of flowers as a centerpiece, and Will glares at it. “Do you not like me for who I am?”

Hannibal stills as he’s pouring red wine into spotless glasses. “That’s a curious question. Because I cleaned your house, you think I don’t like you for who you are?”

“We’ve been fucking for three days and I’ve had an extreme home make-over. It’s a valid question.”

“Material possession has very little to do with who you are,” Hannibal says quietly, settling into the seat beside Will and placing their wine glasses down. “You believe I’m trying to change you because I want for you to live as comfortably as I do. Money is no object for me, as it is for you. I delight in the opportunity to dote on you, as I’ve never done so with anyone in my life. If our roles were reversed, wouldn’t you like to do something nice for me, now and again?”

Will took a sip of his wine, mulling it over. “I would, yeah. I just don’t want you to think that’s why I’m with you.”

“The thought has never crossed my mind, even for a moment. You’re with me because you love me. I know that.”

Will takes a bite of his stew, and of course, it’s the best he’s ever had. “Wow, this is good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Are you gutting my kitchen? I only ask because I’d like to say that I like light wood cabinets.”

Hannibal clears his throat, “I’ll have to get in touch with the contractor, then. I asked for mahogany.”

“You are a fucking…” Will seethes and tries to simmer it down. “Damn it, Hannibal.”

“Sorry,” he says weakly.

“Fine,” Will sighs. “I’ve also always liked Smeg fridges. I like the antique look of them.”

Hannibal’s mouth pinches with the admission. “Stainless steel is very aesthetically pleasing.”

“I want a Smeg.”

“Then we may as well keep the fossil that you have currently,” Hannibal groans.

“It doesn’t have an ice machine,” Will grins.

“Is there anything else you have a specific desire for in your kitchen where you do not cook?”

“Nah,” Will says, spooning more stew in his mouth. “Have at it, after that.”

“Was work awkward for you, today?” Hannibal asks after a bite of his stew.

“Jack came in to see me,” Will laughs. “My bruises are terribly unprofessional.”

“We’ll have to make an effort to be more discrete. I canceled my appointments today because of the bruises on my own throat. We aren’t teenagers.”

“It’s weird that you say that, because all I wanted to do like ten minutes ago was chew on your throat.”

Hannibal swallows, the food some-what stuck for a moment as he sips his wine to clear it. “It still startles me when you speak that way.”

“I don’t know if this is what sex with you is like no matter who you’re with, but I can tell you I’ve never had sex like this. Fuck, I want you all the time. And I kind of want to kill everyone who you’ve ever been inside of just to erase their existence from the world.”

“Sex, for me, has never been like this. Our encounter in my office the other night was the best I’d ever had, until last night.”

“Are you saying that the first night doesn’t make the list? Me fucking you isn’t in your top ten?”

“It’s in the top three, Will. But it’s third.”

“Wow, that’s nice to hear,” Will says sarcastically.

“It was rather impersonal, and you ghosted me afterwards.”

“ _Ghosted_?” Will huffs, one eyebrow arching curiously. “Who are you, even.”

“A patient of mine explained the notion to me the other day. It’s rather fitting.”

Will was fuming. After dinner, he was going to be as fucking personal as Hannibal could possibly deal with. He’d be all up in his shit. See how he feels about invasive, personal, sex.

Will helps him clean up, drying dishes while Hannibal washes them. While Hannibal is wiping down the sink, Will comes up behind him again, running his palms down that addictive little swell of tummy, and Hannibal sighs, lacing his damp hands in Will’s own and tugging them up so that they’re resting against his chest instead. “I’ve got to put the dogs out for a bit, and then we’re going to bed.”

“I’ll join you,” Hannibal agrees easily. They both put on their coats while Will’s dogs jump around their feet, each stepping out into the cold and watching as the dogs bound around the yard. Hannibal steps up to Will as they stand on the porch, wrapping his arms around him. “Do you think it’s worth it to do all this to my house if we might need to leave, soon?”

Hannibal shrugs. “Comfort, no matter how brief, is always worth it. Do you think Jack will keep looking?”

Will nods, trailing his fingers over Hannibal’s waist. “I tried to throw him off, but… I think he will keep looking. Now that he knows I’m involved with you, he won’t be telling me what’s going on. It’s risky, Hannibal. I wish I wouldn’t have made a scene in front of Alana like that. Too late, now.”

“Keep an eye on the situation, no matter. If worse comes to worse, I have alternate living arrangements for us, complete with alternate identities. We will go to Europe, where Abigail is going to college.”

Will tears away from Hannibal, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock. “ _What_?”

“I killed her in name, only. She lives. Her name is Emily, now. She gets to live her life without the ghosts of her past haunting her anymore.”

“Hannibal,” Will breathes out, staring up at him. He’s… happy. So fucking happy he can barely pull in a breath. He’s also pissed that Hannibal kept this from him all this time. “Don’t you think I would have liked to know this sooner?”

Hannibal has the decency to look contrite, at least. “I wanted to make sure you were with me because you wanted to be with me. I couldn’t stomach the idea of you being with me because Abigail was there.”

“And you’re certain that I’m with you because I want to be, now?” Will asks, and he has no idea why he says it.

Hannibal turns to him, his mouth pinching in a small frown. “Should I have assumed that much?”

“Yes,” Will says immediately, a blush rising in his cheeks as he turns to look out over his yard. “I still have so many questions. I’m not ready to ask them, yet. Thank you. Thank you for saving her, Hannibal,” he whispers, a clot of tears in his throat making his voice sound wobbly.

Hannibal tugs him close, tipping his face up to press their lips together, and Will sighs into the kiss. The taste of him was something Will didn’t think he’d ever tire of, nor the feel of his skilled tongue in his mouth. Will pulls away, breathless, “Let’s go to bed, please.”

Hannibal nods, pressing one more kiss to his lips and Will calls the dogs back before they head in the house. They head to the upstairs bathroom, each brushing their teeth with new toothbrushes and some sleek looking toothpaste while Will glares at Hannibal who looks delighted by Will’s indignation.

Will strips down to his underwear before climbing into the bed, sighing at the soft sheets and fluffiness of the comforter. Hannibal strips down to his underwear too, and Will’s throat goes dry as he looks at him. He’s still awe-struck by him. He’s… gorgeous. Lean, sinewy muscles, rolling under golden skin. He’s wearing fucking silk underwear, and not boxers or anything like that. Silk. Tiny. They look like they’d fit in Will’s mouth, and the thought makes Will’s tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. His tiny little tummy is all the softness that Hannibal has on him, and even that makes Will’s toes curl as he’s looking at it. “You’re staring,” Hannibal says with a little smirk.

“How can I not stare? Christ, keep your underwear on, please. Come here.” Hannibal climbs beneath the covers, and Will tosses them back to expose Hannibal’s body to his eyes again. “You are… stunning,” Will says seriously, his eyes wandering all that skin laid out under him. He straddles Hannibal’s thighs, and Will looks his fill of the man under him while Hannibal looks right back.

“You are a beautiful man, too,” Hannibal tells him sincerely, his hand gently stroking against Will’s thigh. “I didn’t know you liked… men.”

Will strokes his fingers through his chest hair, trailing down to press against the swell of tummy gently, and then lower. His fingertips trail over Hannibal’s swelling length that’s barely contained in the tiny silk underwear, the material almost translucent and soft under his hands. “I’ve only been with one other guy, and that was right after high school. I guess I’m bisexual, but I’ve never really thought about it too much. No one wants to date me, Hannibal. Let alone bed me. I didn’t know you liked guys, either.”

“I’m impartial,” Hannibal says with a grin. “Are we dating, Will?”

Will glances up at his face, noting the softness of his features while he looks at Will alone. “I don’t know if dating is the word,” Will muses while slinking down Hannibal’s legs and spreading them so he can settle between them. “All I know is that you are mine. _Only_ mine. You touch anyone else, and I will end you.”

“The sentiment goes both ways,” Hannibal warns him as Will leans forward to nip at the little swell of tummy that’s been taunting him all night. Hannibal squirms under him, arching his back enough that the tummy goes flat, and Will pouts as he drifts his mouth lower. He debates whether he should pull the underwear down, but the material stretched tight over his cock is enticing. There’s a little wet spot on the fabric where his cock is leaking, and it makes Will’s mouth water just looking at it. 

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me with this?” Will asks him with a disbelieving chuckle. He tugs the small band of the underwear with his index finger, while trailing his palm over the smooth hot length of him encased in the silk of the fabric.

“They prevent underwear lines in suits,” Hannibal defends weakly, his breath stuttering out as Will leans forward and wraps his mouth around the head through the thin fabric, suckling on the damp spot that’s spreading there. His taste is distractingly good, and Will wraps his lips around the head through the fabric, wetting it with his saliva. 

“They’re not surviving the night, Doctor Lecter,” Will warns him before pressing his mouth around his shaft and breathing hot breath against him. “I’m going to shred them with my teeth.” Hannibal’s cock gives a little jerk against his mouth, and Will grins as he suckles him through the fabric. “You’re like a fucking gift, wrapped only for me.”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs, arching into Will’s mouth eagerly. Will trails his mouth lower, tugging a testicle into his mouth through the fabric. The spit and precum have made the thin, white, material completely see-through, and Will has to grip himself through his boxers tightly to keep from coming just at the sight.

Will’s had enough, now. It was time to open his present. He tilts his head to the side, gripping the tented fabric to the side of Hannibal’s cock between his teeth, and tugs. It resists tearing for only a moment before he’s able to make a hole. It’s all he needs. He presses his teeth to the tiny hole and pulls, tearing the fabric enough that Hannibal’s cock is visible through the fabric. Unable to resist, he claws into the small tear, ripping it open with his hands enough that Hannibal’s cock is laid bare, resting against his abdomen and weeping. “Fuck,” Will moans, gripping him by the base and angling him up to press his tongue into the slit of his cock to collect the moisture beading there eagerly.

Hannibal arches into his mouth, and Will wastes no time sucking him down his throat. It’s been decades since he’s done this, but with how desperately he wants Hannibal in his throat, it’s not work to relearn how to do it. He sucks him roughly, bobbing over his cock while one hand travels between his thighs, easing into the torn fabric to rub at his perineum with his thumb and his entrance with his fingers. His other hand reaches up to grip at his stomach, a low moan escaping his throat as he gropes the man under him. Hannibal arches his back again, pulling his stomach taut, and Will glares up at him for taking it away. Again.

He shreds the underwear more, sinking low over his cock while Hannibal makes guttural little moans in his throat. Will takes him by behind his knees and folds him in half, leaving his cock to suckle at his testicles that are drawn tight, suckling them into his mouth and rolling them on his tongue. He trails lower, tapping his tongue against his perineum and then lower still, where he tongues gently against Hannibal’s entrance.

The muscle flutters against his tongue, and he grins as he laps at it, making Hannibal shiver from his attention. He pulls away enough to glance up Hannibal’s body, his face flushed and dewy in pleasure. “I’ve never done this with anyone else,” he remarks while pressing his tongue back against his entrance, probing gently before pulling away again. “You’re the first whose done it to me, and I’ve never done it to anyone. Never wanted to, before you.”

He presses his tongue back against his entrance, laving softly and suckling occasionally, delighting in the desperate noises he’s pulling from Hannibal. “Likewise,” Hannibal manages to breathe out, and Will looks up in surprise.

“You’ve never done that to anyone else? I was the first one that night in your office?”

“I want to devour you, Will. Only you. The regard I have for you is unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced.” Hannibal’s voice shakes as he says it, quivering with each deliberate swipe of Will’s tongue against him. 

Will presses inside him with a pointed tongue, earning himself a long moan of approval from Hannibal before he pulls away again. “When you say _devour_ …”

Hannibal laughs, wrapping his legs around Will’s shoulders. “I mean both. Sorry.”

“Christ,” Will sighs, reaching out to tug at his cock with his hand while his mouth suckles at his entrance. He alternates between Hannibal’s cock and his entrance, trailing his mouth between the two lazily. Hannibal is strung taut under him, gripping the sheets in a sweaty death grip. He makes his rounds a few times, tasting him and reveling in the delicious body under him, and he can feel the tension rising in Hannibal.

“Will,” he pants, thrusting up into Will’s mouth desperately as Will pulls away, trailing wet suckles back to his entrance. “Will, please. _Please_.”

Will suctions his mouth against him, plunging his tongue inside his now loosened hole easily. “Hm?” he asks without moving his mouth.

“Please, I’m ready. Will, come on,” he gasps, arching his spine and digging his heels into Will’s shoulders, urging him to do something more.

Will chuckles, pulling away to blow air against his damp entrance, and he sucks the skin of Hannibal’s thigh, bruising it as he watches the muscle flutter helplessly. Will’s knees are aching from how long he’s been tormenting Hannibal this way, his own cock throbbing and aching in his boxers. Will disentangles himself from Hannibal’s long legs and reaches into the end table for lube, coating his fingers before pressing into Hannibal’s body.

They slide in easily from all the prep he’s done with his mouth, his entrance coated in Will’s saliva. Hannibal spreads his thighs more, making room and lifting his legs wantonly. Will closes his eyes and turns his face to avoid coming in his pants like a teenager, he’s that beautiful under him.

He barely remembers prepping Hannibal that first time. He knew it was tight, and he wasn’t wrong about that. His body is clenched around his fingers, and Will watches Hannibal make room for him. “How long ago was it since you’ve done this? Before me, I mean.”

Hannibal’s eyes blink open, his pupils blown out as he stares up at Will with an unreadable expression. “I’ve never been penetrated before you, Will.”

Will stills his fingers and Hannibal whines under him. “I was your first? Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I was not… careful.”

“I wanted you, Will,” Hannibal moans, arching his spine deliciously. “I wanted you however you’d have me.”

Will closes his eyes and strokes at that spot inside of him, feeling his muscles twitching as he brings him pleasure. He feels horrible for making Hannibal’s first time bottoming such a hasty, unfulfilling experience. One that started with Will attempting to kill him. Christ, he was an idiot sometimes.

“If you don’t like doing this, we can switch. It never occurred to me that you might like to top, only. I don’t have a preference. They’re both good. With you, they’re both fucking amazing.”

Hannibal shakes his head, “I want you like this. It’s much better this time, I assure you.”

Will smiles at him as he shrugs out of his boxers quickly and slicks his cock with lube, pressing gently against his entrance. “Ready for me, Hannibal?”

“Always,” he replies breathlessly as Will sinks in. All the prepping was worth it as it’s tight, but no work to slide in to the hilt. He’s a little concerned about how long he’s going to last, as he’s ridiculously turned on and Hannibal’s body is gripping him like a vice. He rocks his hips in long, smooth thrusts. Almost withdrawing entirely before sliding back in. The both of them moan as Will leans over him, trapping Hannibal’s cock between their bellies as Will devours his mouth.

He feels so good around Will, he feels incredible under him. Will sits up to thrust deeper and grip Hannibal’s cock in his hand, his other coming to rest on Hannibal’s stomach as he thrusts into his tight body. He’s lost in his pleasure when he feels Hannibal’s hand tug the palm that’s resting on his stomach upward, so it rests against his chest. Will glances at Hannibal, a little frown marring his opened mouth as he keeps thrusting. There’s been a few times, now, that Hannibal has redirected his hand away from that spot, and he’s wondering about it when Hannibal rolls them over, straddling Will’s waist and effectively riding him into the mattress.

Will grips his ass with one hand and his cock with the other, briefly forgetting about the little hint of insecurity that his lover might have. White hot pulses of pleasure are rolling through his gut, and he digs his toes into the sheets, pumping Hannibal’s cock more purposefully. “Close, Hannibal,” he moans. “Come with me, darlin’, please.”

Hannibal arches his back, tipping his head up towards the ceiling and rolling his hips, and then they’re both coming. Hannibal’s muscles clench and clench around him, milking him while he gasps in gallons of air as Hannibal collapses against him, chuckling. “This is the second best I’ve ever had,” Hannibal pants against his neck, pressing kisses to his collarbones. 

“Second?” Will asks haughtily.

“You told me you loved me last night,” Hannibal reminds him between suckles to his throat. “For the first time. It will always be number one, Will.”

“I do love you,” Will reminds him, grinning as he tugs Hannibal’s face back to his own. “Did you just give me another damned hickey?”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal replies, biting his lip and smoothing his soft hands against Will’s abdomen. “Sorry.”

“Jack is going to kill me,” he laughs. “I will need to buy turtlenecks, I guess. Do you need to be anywhere tomorrow?”

Hannibal shakes his head, rolling over to rest against the pillows. “Saturday. Do you have plans?”

Will turns to look at him, and it feels like there’s miles between them. He rolls over to settle against Hannibal’s side, tucking them close together and earning a chuckle for it. “I wanted to go fishing at my stream. If you want to join me, I’d like to show it to you.”

Hannibal grips his shoulder in his palm, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I would love nothing more, Will.”

Hannibal’s reaction to his stream is something that Will hopes to remember for the rest of his life. He stood, staring out over the sun-drenched waters, a little smile on his lips. “So this is the foyer to your mind palace?”

Will nods, taking in the peaceful serenity of his stream, and the stunning beauty of the sun in Hannibal’s eyes in equal turns. “What’s yours?”

“The Cappella Palatina, in Palermo, Sicily. It’s the royal chapel of the Norman Palace. The building is a mixture of Byzantine, Norman and Fatimid architectural styles, showing the tricultural state of Sicily during the 12th century. It’s… beautiful. I look forward to showing you, someday.” Hannibal says quietly, sipping his thermos of Earl Grey tea that Will made him.

Will watches him, feeling especially silly standing next to all his elegance while wearing rubber waders over his jeans. He’s clutching a sketchpad and a few charcoals from his car, and Will smiles at him. “While I fish, could you draw it for me?”

Hannibal looks ridiculously pleased by the request, a boyish smile gracing his lips as he turns to Will fondly. “Of course, I can.”

Hannibal settles out in the dry winter grass by the side of the stream, while Will wades into the water and gets his line ready. 

The sharp smell of pine and decay of leaves, the clean, mineral scent of the water, and the aromas of the different shrubs that grew along the stream combined into a kind of hypnotic for him, and Will feels more at peace here than he has in at least a decade. He missed this most of all after his time in the BSHCI. Sharing this with Hannibal was… huge for Will, who valued his private space just as much as he’s sure Hannibal values his own. 

Will fishes for a while, but the lure of Hannibal sitting at the side of the stream is too much to ignore. Will turns his head to regard the beautiful man sitting in the grass by the edge of the stream. Hannibal is sketching, and he’s clearly engrossed in his drawing. 

Hannibal’s head is tipped towards his drawing, the sunlight unable to reach over the sharp edges of his cheekbones. One of his knees is drawn up so he can rest his sketchbook against it, and Will notices the glisten of his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth.

As if sensing Will’s gaze, Hannibal glances up, pulling the breath from Will’s lungs as he does. The knowing little smirk on his lips is a sign that the older man knows that Will is appreciating him. “Are you not enjoying where you are, Will?” he asks, a note of teasing in his voice.

“I’m admiring the view,” Will says honestly, adoring the way Hannibal tilts his head almost shyly.

“As am I,” Hannibal admits while his eyes slide over Will appreciatively.

Just as Will is about to abandon fishing in favor of something better, there is a sharp tug on his line. “Oh!” Will cries, a wide smile on his face as he reels the line in.

It feels big, and Will is more than a little excited to see what he’s caught for their dinner tonight.

He grapples with it a moment, its long body fighting against being caught and Will laughs as he tucks it against his chest. “It’s a catfish,” he says incredulously. “What’re you doing out here, bud?” he asks the fish.

Hannibal chuckles from the side of the stream. “There are catfish everywhere in the world, Will. They’re not native to Louisiana.”

“I know that,” Will laughs. “I’m just surprised. They’re nocturnal, he’s up way past his bedtime.”

Hannibal quirks an eyebrow, looking at Will in amusement. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, I used to go down to the creek with my Dad at night. They’re active after sunset. The only way to catch them during the day is if you stick your fist in their dens to the side of the creek. Let’em bite you and then you can pull them out. I hated doing it that way. It felt like I was offering myself up as a meal.”

“What’s it called when people do that? I forget, now.” Hannibal wonders.

Will grins, turning to Hannibal as he wades out of the water. “Noodling.”

“Ah,” Hannibal chuckles. “I wanted to say it was canoodling, but I knew that wasn’t right.”

Will’s laugh bursts from him as he leans forward to press his mouth to Hannibal’s own, lingering a moment before pulling away. He’s still laughing when he responds. “Canoodling is, depending who you ask, fucking or cuddling. Hopefully, no one canoodles a catfish after noodling them.”

Hannibal’s laugh is a genuine one, his eyes crinkling beautifully as he looks up at Will. “American slang is something I’ve yet to truly grasp. I’m quite lucky to have you here to clarify its crudeness to me.”

Will sets the fish in the cooler before rinsing his hands in the stream a bit. He turns and grins at Hannibal, slipping his waders off hastily.

Once out of the rubber pants, he straddles Hannibal’s waist, dragging their mouths together gently. It still feels strange to have Hannibal like this. To know it’s reciprocated makes it even better. Their intimacy is still so new, but it feels like he’s known Hannibal forever. Like they’ve been destined for this, and more.

Hannibal’s mouth is still sweet from the earl grey tea he’s been sipping, and Will laps at his tongue greedily to get to Hannibal’s real flavor underneath. Will pulls away after a moment, adjusting himself more comfortably over Hannibal’s lap. Their hands slide over each other’s shoulders, while their mouths continue their gentle exploration. 

Hannibal pulls away briefly, lips dragging to Will’s jaw, “Are we canoodling, Will?”

Will chuckles, shifting his hips over Hannibal’s own as their mouths slide against one another’s again. “It depends who you ask,” he replies coyly while his fingers slide up into the silky graying strands of Hannibal’s hair, tugging gently.  
“A little more than cuddling, a little less than sex,” Hannibal agrees, mouthing softly at Will’s throat. 

Will laughs, “Fucking, Hannibal. Say it for me, please.”

The long sigh against his throat is martyred as he pulls away, licking the flavor of Will’s skin from his lips. His eyes hold Will’s as he concedes. “A little less than fucking.”

Will grins as he slams their mouths back together, moaning low in his throat as their tongues slide against one another. They are pressed together fully, Will’s hips canting against Hannibal’s own as their cocks rubbed together.

Their urgency dissipates a bit as the sun creeps past the line of the trees, casting them in shadow that makes the air feel chillier than before.

“We’ve been here a long time,” Hannibal says regretfully. “We should get back to the house to let the dogs outside.”

Will nods, pressing his lips to Hannibal’s temple briefly. “I want to cook for you, tonight.”

Hannibal pulls away in surprise, his mouth opening charmingly. “You… want to cook for me?”

Will stands slowly, wiping leaves and dead grass from his knees. “Don’t look so surprised. I can cook. Especially catfish.”

Hannibal stands too, brushing leaves from his bottom and grass from his expensive slacks. “I must admit… I am concerned.”

“Don’t be,” Will laughs. “I used to make it every weekend with my Dad when we’d come home from fishing. It’s like riding a bike for me. Do you like spicy food?”

Hannibal shrugs. “It depends. Heat for the sake of flavor is one thing, heat for the sake of sweating is another.”

“I’ll spice it up just right,” Will promises, leaning forward to tug at Hannibal’s bottom lip with his teeth. “I’d much rather make you sweaty with some canoodling than with my catfish.”

Hannibal laughs again, and the musical quality of it stuns Will to silence. He’s never heard Hannibal laugh as much as he has today. He’s never laughed as much himself. His cheeks ache from all the smiling they’ve been doing, and for a temporary moment he’s stunned by the joy he’s feeling, all because of this man. This man who literally put him in prison for things that he’d done. Weird how life works out, Will thinks.

“Ridiculous man,” Hannibal says adoringly while his slender fingers slide against the side of Will’s neck, his fingertips lacing in the curls against his shirt collar.

They make their way back to Will’s house, each carrying a few things to help one another out. Hannibal takes care of his dogs while Will gets busy in his kitchen, fileting the catfish and getting out the ingredients for the rest of their meal. 

He’s got a head of cabbage, and he makes a sweet coleslaw that’s packed with fresh black pepper. The filets are soaking in milk with a little bit of lemon juice in it, as he doesn’t have buttermilk. He hasn’t made this in years, but his hands are moving as though he just made it yesterday. 

He mixes the dry ingredients of cornmeal, flour, paprika, and Cajun seasoning, and gets his cast iron skillet out with an inch or two of oil heating in it. He takes the fish filets out of the faux buttermilk soak, dredging them in the dry ingredients, and fries them.

The scent knocks him back to his dad’s kitchen when he was a kid. He was always responsible for the dredging part, and he took immense pride in it. His dad’s eyes, so much like Will’s own, would watch him pridefully. One of the few things that he and his dad would do where they got along perfectly, aside from working on boat motors.

Hannibal comes in with all of his dogs, and Will looks up to smile at him as Hannibal hangs his coat. “Thanks for taking them out.”

“It’s no bother, Will,” Hannibal tells him, settling on the couch to continue his sketch. “Would you like help?”

“Nah,” Will grins, flipping the fish. “Almost done. This doesn’t take long.”

“I’ll set the table, then,” Hannibal offers, abandoning his sketch to come into the kitchen. His palm presses to Will’s hip as he reaches for dishes, moving him gently. It feels weirdly domestic, especially when Hannibal presses a kiss to the side of his neck. “Smells good,” he praises.

“It should be good,” Will grins. “Want to grab us each a beer, too?”

“I will not be having beer,” Hannibal says with a grimace. 

“Sorry doc, but it’s basically against the law to have wine with a Cajun fish fry. Get the beers, please.” He hears Hannibal sigh as he takes a few bottles of Sam Adam’s out of the fridge. “You brew beer, don’t you? How can you brew it and not even like it?”

“I brewed it for Alana,” Hannibal replies, and Will grips the tongs his using hard enough to click them together. 

“You fucking brewed beer. From scratch. For… _Alana_ ,” Will grits out.

“Will,” Hannibal sighs again, moving into the dining area off the kitchen. “She doesn’t mean anything to me. She was an alibi that became a distraction. No need to be jealous.”

“Right,” Will says acidly while pressing the filets to a few paper towels to drain them. “I _always_ brew beer for people who don’t mean anything to me. How silly of me to wonder about it.”

Hannibal grips his wrist as he’s plating their coleslaw and fish, and Will meets his eyes with a glare. “She was a friend, at first. It was a poor decision to let it venture further. Not just because I’ve been in love with you the entire time, but also professionally. I let our relationship become romantic after you tried to have me killed. I was upset, and I knew it would hurt you to know I had her that way. I did not know it would upset you because you’d be jealous of her, though.”

“I’m sorry I sent Matthew to you,” Will says softly, and Hannibal grimaces at the familiarity of Will using his first name. 

“ _Matthew_. Yes,” Hannibal glances away, tugging his lip between his teeth. “Were you…”

“No,” Will interjects quickly, gripping Hannibal’s wrist so that he couldn’t turn away. “I told you there has only been one guy, and it was a long, long time ago. I didn’t lie to you. He just… took to me. He thought, no, he recognized that I was like him. He wanted to be… friends, I think.”

“We should eat before it goes cold,” Hannibal says suddenly, taking the plates and heading into the dining room. Will sighs, rubbing his face before he follows after him.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, Will watching Hannibal closely to see if he’s enjoying it. He’s got his armor up, and Will can’t get a read on him because of it. “It’s good, Will,” Hannibal placates him, smiling softly as he sips his beer. 

“A little too spicy,” Will chuckles, sipping his beer to clear the heat in his throat. “I always put too much Cajun seasoning. My Dad liked it that way, though.”

“You don’t speak of him often,” Hannibal says carefully. “The coleslaw is good with the heat of the fish,” he remarks absently.

“Sweet and spicy,” Will agrees. “I don’t talk about him, and I don’t know why. He was good to me. He taught me how to fish and make lures. He took me to all his odd jobs at boatyards. Showed me how to take motors apart and put’em together again. When we were… doing something together, we’d get along. My disorder…” Will grimaces and sips more beer. “I remember him looking at me one time when he had to pick me up from school. I had been crying because I was always crying. I picked up emotions like an antenna. He was… disappointed. I could read it as easily as a book. Just… depressed to have a son like me.”

“He didn’t have your gift, I take it?” Hannibal asks, taking a small sip of his beer. 

“No,” Will laughs bitterly. “It’s like I got all the empathy that he never had. He didn’t understand me. He never even tried. He was a drunk. Between my mother leaving and… having me, he was depressed a lot. Just living with him in turn made me depressed. The only joy between us was the distraction of fishing or motors. It’s not lost on me that those are two things that still bring me joy, now.”

“My sister used to draw,” Hannibal says suddenly, glancing away from Will briefly. “She’d sit for hours and sketch our home, the woods by the manor. I never really saw the appeal, but she taught me how. She was younger than me by several years, and yet… I learned so much from her.”

“What happened to her?” Will asks carefully, his voice barely a whisper. 

Hannibal closes his eyes for a moment, glancing away from Will again to look out towards the living room. “My parents and I went to a cabin we had. Very remote. It was summer, and we always spent a few weeks a year there when we were children. A group of men, wanted for murder, came across our cabin while we were there. They killed my parents in front of us and held Mischa and I against our will for months.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Will breathes. “You don’t have to share this with me. I… I’m sorry, Hannibal.”

“I’m telling you because I want to,” Hannibal assures him, dragging his heavy gaze back to Will’s eventually. “They kept us there for months, and autumn turned to winter. Food was scarce, and Mischa and I were very ill from infected wounds we had from them tying our ankles. They took her one day, and I didn’t know where they brought her, except she never came back. Later that night, one of the men brought me soup. I ate it because I was starving. Once I finished, the man laughed and asked me how my sister tasted.”

“Fuck,” Will moans, pressing his fingertips to his eyes. Everything about Hannibal suddenly made too much sense. How do you survive a trauma like that and not become something other? 

“She was everything to me. I loved her dearly,” Hannibal continues. “It was only a few weeks later that they were found. My ancestral home was deemed abandoned and turned into an orphanage by the state. I returned home, but it was not my home. I stayed there for three years before my Uncle Robertas came and adopted me.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Will says softly. He reaches his hand out and touches Hannibal’s wrist, running his thumb against the scars that Matthew gave him. “I have… I have no words, Hannibal.”

Hannibal stays silent for a few moments, looking at Will meaningfully. “I wanted to share with you. You’ve shared this meal with me, something so meaningful between your father and yourself. I wanted to tell you because I’ve never told anyone.”

Will sips his beer, grappling with the heaviness of the emotions rolling off of Hannibal. “What’s a favorite dinner from your childhood? Something maybe your mom made that would remind you of home if you had it?”

“I don’t…” Hannibal began, his eyes glancing downward briefly. “I barely remember my parents, but my Mother was Italian. She would make braciole sometimes. It was pounded sirloin with… I think pancetta rolled up in it. It had cheeses inside of it as well. She’d simmer the rolls in a red wine marinara all day in a cast iron Dutch oven. The smell of it was… divine. I remember on the days where I woke up and could smell garlic and onion, Mischa and I would linger by the house all day until it was finished.”

Will feels the sense of loss from Hannibal as he tells the story, and his heart breaks for everything he has lost in his life. “We should… get a recipe online? Or buy a decent Italian cookbook? Let’s make it one day.”

Hannibal smiles gently, turning his wrist so he can grip Will’s fingers with his own. “I would like that, Will.”

After the dishes are done, Hannibal joins Will outside to let the dogs out for a bit. “I think I’ll head home, tonight,” he says carefully, turning to Will with a reluctant expression.

Will contains the moue of distaste that the idea stirs in him, and he shrugs. “You’re welcome to stay,” Will replies softly, turning to Hannibal to wrap him in his arms. “Stay.”

“I have no clothes for tomorrow, and I need to shave,” Hannibal explains while Will holds him tighter. 

“You’re not just making excuses to get away from me because you’ve shared too much, are you?”

Hannibal stiffens in his arms and sighs. “You know me too well, sometimes.”

“You can shave here. My sugar daddy bought me brand new razors that are actually really nice,” Will teases with a chuckle. “You can borrow pajamas and head home tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to leave, Will,” Hannibal replies reluctantly. 

“Then let’s go take a shower, and then we’re going to bed.”

They head inside and go upstairs, each undressing before climbing into Will’s small shower stall. They’re pressed tight in there, laughing as they’re accidentally elbowing each other while they wash. Hannibal presses him against the shower wall, kissing him deeply while his hands wander soapy flesh. He feels so good, and Will wants him, but that’s not where things were headed tonight. 

Will brushes his teeth, and then leaves the bathroom while Hannibal shaves. It’s weird to realize that Hannibal needs to shave. Will’s never seen him with stubble or anything less than a perfectly immaculate exterior. He’s seen more of Hannibal in every way this past week, and he feels immensely grateful for it. Like he’s been given a rare gift, one that he plans to treasure.

Will digs out a pair of pajama pants that were given to him for Christmas one year, ones that are a little too big for Will. He chuckles as he lays them out on the bed, looking forward to the indignation he’s going to get for it. He gets dressed in his boxers and climbs into bed, yawning and stretching as Hannibal walks in. He drops his towel and reaches for the pajama pants, glancing up at Will with a little smirk. “Whose are these?”

“Mine,” Will laughs. “They’re a favorite candy of mine. I got them for Christmas one year.”

“Sugar Daddies?” Hannibal laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

Will laughs as Hannibal climbs into the bed, royal blue and yellow ‘Sugar Daddy’ pajama pants slung low on his hips. Will rolls to meet him, pressing his mouth against Hannibal’s eagerly, trailing his hand gently from his chest to his stomach. Hannibal kisses him back, and Will feels Hannibal’s hand drag his own from his stomach back up to his chest. It wasn’t in his imagination, Hannibal had… insecurities. Silly ones, especially considering Will wanted to eat him alive. He’d have to make it known that it was ridiculous to be ashamed of any part of himself with Will. Will’s seen too much of him to let Hannibal think his delicious body was anything less than the most gorgeous thing Will has ever seen. Not tonight, though.

Will pulls away from his sweet mouth, pressing gentle kisses down the side of his throat before pulling away. Hannibal’s fingers are tucked into his wild curls, and Will leans into the touch. “Do you regret telling me?” he asks gently.

Hannibal leans forward and kisses him again, tugging Will’s bottom lip between his teeth. “No,” he replies eventually. “You want to know me, and I want you to know me, in turn. You’ve shared more of yourself with me today than I ever thought you would. I want you to know that it’s… appreciated.”

“I appreciate you telling me, too,” Will smiles softly, allowing his hands to trail against his chest. 

Will settles out against Hannibal’s side, listening to the steady thump of his heart under his ear. “I haven’t had any night terrors this weekend,” he realizes absently.

“Were you still having them?” Hannibal wonders while twirling his fingers through Will’s hair. 

“Yeah,” Will admits softly. “Almost every night, but not with you here with me. You’re a dreamcatcher, I guess.”

“Not something anyone else would accuse me of being,” Hannibal chuckles. “If I am the reason, then I’m thankful for it.”

“I’m thankful for you, too,” Will replies seriously, and Hannibal grips him tighter in response. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but it’s dreamless.

Will wakes up Sunday morning alone, and he sits up with a pinched mouth, touching the side of the bed where Hannibal was miserably. He uses the bathroom and heads downstairs, where Hannibal is frying bacon and eggs at his stove. He’s sipping his coffee, shirtless, in Sugar Daddy pajama pants, looking like an absolute wet dream. Will goes to him immediately, pressing kisses to his spine as Hannibal turns a few strips of bacon. “Good morning, beloved,” Hannibal greets him without turning away from his task.

Will busies himself with getting a mug of coffee, sipping it as he returns to Hannibal’s side. “Good morning,” he replies. He notices that his dog’s dishes are out, and he turns to Hannibal with a grin. “You fed the dogs, too?”

“Winston and Buster are very persistent in the morning,” Hannibal muses, dropping a few strips of bacon to a paper towel. “I find it best to feed them if I’m expecting to do anything without them begging.”

“You didn’t need to, but thank you for that,” Will grins. “After breakfast I’m going for a run. I haven’t gone running since before I was, uh, away. You can stick around the house or join me if you’d like?”

“I’ll stay here and finish my sketch,” Hannibal tells him while plating the most perfect over-easy eggs Will has ever seen in his life. “It should be finished by the time you get back.”

Hannibal hands him a plate, and Will takes it with a pleased groan. “Thanks for breakfast, too. A guy could get used to living like this.”

“You’ve given me these pajamas for a reason, did you not?” Hannibal teases with a gentle smirk.

“You bet your ass I did,” Will laughs, pressing a kiss to his high cheekbone. “They’re too long on me. I almost fell down the stairs the first and only time I wore them. So I gave them to you and your long legs instead.”

Hannibal takes his plate and they head to the small kitchen table, settling out in the chairs closest to one another. “If it makes you uncomfortable that I’m doing these things for you, I won’t do them. It’s very simple, Will.”

“Not uncomfortable,” Will blushes. “Just unaccustomed. I’ve never dated anyone, Hannibal. This is… foreign to me. I also don’t see the point when we might have to leave unexpectedly.”

“Arrangements have already been made in the event that we’d need to go on short notice,” Hannibal promises him while taking a bite of his toast. 

Will nods, eating quietly for a few minutes. He’s got so many questions that are burning him up from the inside, but he just can’t bring himself to ask them. “How many, Hannibal? How many people have you killed?”

Hannibal startles at the question, choking on his coffee and averting his eyes. He clears his throat, setting his coffee cup down on the table. “Do you really want to do this now?”

“It’s got to be done eventually, so yeah,” Will shrugs. “Now.”

There’s a tense few minutes where Hannibal doesn’t speak at all, and Will lets him gather his thoughts. “I don’t… I don’t know, Will. It’s… more than a few.”

“More than fifty?” Will asks, and Hannibal tugs his lip between his teeth. He nods reluctantly, and Will sets his fork down as his limbs go numb. “More than a hundred?” Hannibal glances up at him with a remorseful expression, and nods again. They sit quietly for a few minutes, allowing Will to absorb that information.

“I’ve been doing this for decades, Will,” Hannibal admits softly. “In Italy, too. Before that, in France.”

Will sips his coffee with shaking hands, glancing up at Hannibal carefully. “You clearly don’t display all of them, then.”

“No,” Hannibal concedes softly. “I kill them in all different ways so that it looks like several different killers.”

“Have you killed anyone since I’ve gotten out?” Will asks, and Hannibal shakes his head.

“I’ve been with you, Will,” Hannibal sighs. “I don’t… feel the compulsion that other’s like me say that they feel.”

Will laughs humorlessly. “You must feel _something_ , Hannibal, to kill that many people.”

Hannibal grimaces at that, sipping his coffee to hide his face a bit. “You said you relate to me. That you’re like me. You’re not, Will.”

“Maybe not quite,” Will agrees with a sigh. 

“Would you ask me to stop?” Hannibal wonders, and his tone is merely curious.

Will laughs again, glancing up at Hannibal in surprise. “No,” he shakes his head. “That’d just be setting myself up for disappointment, wouldn’t it? Besides, maybe we don’t share the same moral code, but I still understand why you do it. It felt good to kill Hobbs. He deserved what I gave him.”

Hannibal takes a small bite of his toast, keeping his eyes away from Will’s own for a few minutes. “There was a point where I was willing to manipulate you until you saw my point of view. That is no longer an option. All I can hope for now is that what I do won’t push you away. If you decided to turn me in, I’d forgive you.”

“Neither of us will survive the separation,” Will replies easily. Hannibal looks up at him, and his expression is fond. 

“No,” he agrees easily. “We wouldn’t. Would you like some time away from me, regardless?”

Will leans forward and catches his lips with his own, holding his face gently in the palm of his hand. Hannibal shudders out a breath against his lips, kissing him back tentatively. Will pulls away but keeps his face close. “No, I don’t want or need space, Hannibal.”

“Do you ever doubt how I feel about you? Do you believe what psychologists believe about people like me? That I’m incapable of love?” Hannibal asks in barely a whisper.

Will laughs, leaning forward to press his lips back to Hannibal’s again. “Do you forget that I have this disorder? I can feel you, Hannibal.” He pulls away reluctantly, gripping his coffee mug in a death grip. “Have I ever really told you why I’ve never been in a relationship?” 

Hannibal shakes his head, and Will sighs. “I pick up everything. Every minute facial expression. Every subtle shift of someone’s body. I know what they’re thinking, how they’re feeling. I’ve been in bed with others and been completely aware that they’d rather be reading their book. I know the exact moment when I’m talking to someone and they lose interest in what I’m saying. Intimacy is less intimate and more a burden, for me. For a long time, I thought I must just be a bad lay, considering how many times I’d notice people’s minds wandering from me. I came to understand that’s just how it is, but I hated it.”

“Their minds would wander to what, exactly?” Hannibal asks, and his tone is mildly clinical. It doesn’t bother Will too much. He is a psychiatrist, after all.

“To their exes, things that are worrying them, things they have to do,” Will sighs, blushing as he continues. “Sometimes it’s that I’m not getting them off the way that they want. They wish I were someone else. It’s… distractingly awkward.”

“Extraordinary,” Hannibal breathes out, and immediately looks contrite. 

“It’s fine,” Will tells him, and Hannibal hides his face behind his coffee cup. “The point of this is that I don’t pick up anything like that from you, ever. You… worship me. It’s almost strange in itself because I don’t understand why. Your mind never wanders from me, and it’s… intense. You love me. I don’t doubt that for a single second because I can feel it. I hope you can feel it with me, too.”

Hannibal smiles softly, “You say that you don’t understand why. I could say the same.”

“Yeah you’ve been a dick. I tried to have you killed. We’re both pretty bad at intimacy, apparently. You still know me better than anyone. I still love you more than I hate the things you’ve done.”

“I am trying to do better by you, for what it’s worth,” Hannibal promises him, and Will knows that’s true.

“I know. I am, too.”

They sit silently for a few minutes to allow the heaviness to dissipate. “Go for your run, beloved. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Will nods, but still sticks around to help him clean up, first.

Will intends to go for a run, but it ends up being more like a jog. He’s out of shape from his months in prison, and it’s just damp enough outside to make his shoulder ache with each impact of his feet against the cement. He’s gone for maybe fifteen minutes before he stops to rub the ache out of his shoulder. He’s pulling gasps of air that ache his side and his lungs when he decides to head back to the house.

He walks in, and his living room is suspiciously empty, Hannibal’s sketchbook on the end of the couch. His dogs are laid out all over the floor, and he goes upstairs to see if Hannibal is showering. 

He’s not.

He’s in the second bedroom, laid out on the rug. He’s still in his pajamas, doing sit-ups. 

_Sit-ups_.

Hannibal lays flat when he notices Will, his body glistening from exertion as he blushes and averts his eyes. “That was a quick run,” he notes with a grimace.

“My shoulder was aching and I’m out of shape,” Will replies. “What are you doing?”

“I should think that much is obvious,” Hannibal says, and there’s embarrassment that Will is picking up. 

Will walks over and straddles him, pinning him to the floor with his hips while Hannibal wiggles under him uncomfortably. “Why are you doing it?”

“Will,” Hannibal groans, “get up, please.”

“No,” Will shakes his head, pressing him down against the rug with his body. “Why are you doing sit-ups?”

“I was… more depressed than I thought I would be after you were gone. I’m not as in shape as I used to be, either.” Hannibal replies grudgingly. “So please get up, Will.”

“Nope,” Will shakes his head, shifting downwards to rest over his groin while his hands pin him to the carpet. “What is it that you think I don’t like, Hannibal?”

“Will, let me _up_ ,” Hannibal says, and his tone is more clipped now than it was a few minutes before. 

“Is it this?” Will asks, nuzzling his stomach with his mouth, and Hannibal arches his back to pull it taut. “Stop that,” Will laughs.

“You stop this,” Hannibal warns him. “I’m not in the _mood_ for this, Will.”

“Do you forget that I can feel when you’re lying to me?” Will chuckles, rolling his hips over Hannibal who is decidedly in the mood for something, judging by the hard press of his cock against Will’s ass.

“Will,” Hannibal groans, dropping his head back to the rug as Will continues pressing into him with his ass, dragging it up and down his length that’s encased in the most ridiculous pajama pants on earth. 

“What if I hid from you? What if I didn’t like parts of myself and tried to keep them from you? How would that make you feel, Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal moans, gripping Will’s hips to urge him harder against his body. “I’d be dumbfounded because your body is beautiful, Will.”

“So is yours,” Will replies immediately. “Just the way it is.”

Hannibal swallows, glancing up at Will miserably. “I used to be more in shape, I just want to-“

“If you’re doing it for you, then fine,” Will interjects. “If you’re doing it because you think I don’t want you just the way you are, then stop. You’re so hard, everywhere. Your cheekbones are sharp, your jawline is sharp,” Will moans, rolling down a bit so he can drag his erection against Hannibal’s own. “Your entire body is just corded muscles under golden skin. You’re so gorgeous, Hannibal. _Christ_ ,” he sighs, pressing harder while Hannibal’s hands grip his ass. “It’s the only tiny bit of softness you have. And it makes my fucking mouth water. You want to take that away from me, huh?”

“It’s not-“

“No,” Will shushes him, leaning over his torso to mouth at his jaw, then his throat. “It drives me nuts. _You_ drive me nuts. I’ve got a stay in a mental hospital to prove it. So stop this, and stop _hiding_ from me.”

“Will,” Hannibal sighs as his mouth suckles bruises against Hannibal’s neck and his shoulders. He travels downward over the hard planes of Hannibal’s chest, tugging his nipples gently with his teeth. His hands continue pinching the pebbled flesh as his mouth wanders downward, nipping at the tiny swell of tummy under his mouth, and Hannibal squirms under the attention. 

“Be still, and do not arch your back,” Will warns him sternly. Hannibal settles out against the rug with a sigh, and Will nips at the skin, rubbing his hand over his stomach reverently. “Fuck,” Will moans, pressing kisses to the flesh and rubbing his cheek against him.

He slinks lower, tugging the waistband of his pajamas down only enough to expose the hot length of him, and he wraps his lips around him while his hands travel his abdomen, gripping him as he sinks his mouth down. He tastes delicious, and he looks even better spread out under Will like this. He’s ridiculously turned on, and he thinks he might be able to get off from this without Hannibal even touching him.

He pulls away, glancing up at Hannibal with dark eyes. “Take what you want from me, Hannibal,” Will says pointedly, wrapping his lips around the hot length of him again.

Hannibal moans, and braces his feet against the rug on either side of Will’s shoulders, and thrusts up. His fingers tangle into Will’s hair, twisting the curls into a riot. Will adjusts for his pace, slackening his jaw and gripping Hannibal’s thigh in one hand while the other rests on his stomach. Hannibal’s hips snap up harshly, his cock slamming into the back of Will’s throat. He’s never really done this before and figuring out the angle of how to not choke distracts him a bit. 

Almost enough that he doesn’t hear the doorbell, at first. 

His dogs are barking, and he pulls off of Hannibal reluctantly. “The _fuck_ ,” Will sighs. 

Hannibal groans, dropping his head back to the rug. “Expecting someone?”

“No,” Will replies bitterly, standing up and adjusting his erection while wiping the spit from the side of his mouth. “I’ll see who it is.”

He jogs downstairs miserably, throbbing in his pants the entire way. He takes a minute to calm himself before opening the door to Alana fucking Bloom. 

He licks his lips of the remnants of Hannibal’s flavor, and opens the door. “Can I help you with something?” he asks, probably more tersely than he should. All he’s thinking about is Hannibal’s naked body under him, and his rudeness is unavoidable.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says carefully. “Hannibal is here?”

“You see his car, don’t you?” Will sasses back, and he sighs as he lets her into his living room. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head, looking around his house meticulously. He’s sure she’s seeing all the little homey touches. Things Will would not do for himself. “I went to see Hannibal yesterday, and Friday night. He hasn’t been home for the entire weekend,” she says with a grimace. “Has he been here this whole time?”

“Yes,” Will replies easily. “Why?”

She shakes her head, glancing away from Will briefly. “Will, it’s not… it’s not acceptable for him to take advantage of you this way. In your mental state, you’re going to attach yourself to anyone who helps you. That’s the role of a therapist, to be your confidant who maintains professional boundaries through your recovery.”

Will laughs, shaking his head. “He’s never been my therapist, aside from that one instance where he rubber stamped me to return to field work.”

“You can tell yourself that,” Alana replies, shifting her feet as Hannibal comes down the stairs, still in his pajama pants. She looks completely taken aback seeing him that way, her eyes sliding over him almost appreciatively, and Will almost snarls at her. 

“Alana,” Hannibal greets her, coming to stand at Will’s side. “What a surprise.”

“I’d say,” she replies bitterly. “I went to your house a few times this weekend. Will tells me you’ve been here the whole time. What are you doing, Hannibal?”

“Spending the weekend with my…” Hannibal pauses, glancing at Will helplessly. 

“His partner?” Will chuckles, and Hannibal blushes. Actually blushes. 

“Paramour?” Hannibal teases back. Alana does not look amused.

“You could lose your license for this,” Alana interrupts them, and they both turn to her with matching raised eyebrows. 

“He’s not my therapist,” Will repeats more firmly.

“We have conversations,” Hannibal agrees easily, tugging the waistband of his pajamas up a bit. 

“It’s not professional,” Alana interrupts again. “Hannibal, you have to see this for what it is. You’ve helped Will more than anyone else. You’ve been his anchor, his paddle. He’s not even gay, that should give you a clue!”

“I’ve been with a man before him, Alana,” Will replies bitterly, and he delights in her blush.

“I don’t think I believe that. I’ve never seen you with a man,” she says softly, and her expression is so soft as she looks at Will. Like he’s a poor thing who’s being taken advantage of.

“You’ve never seen me with a _woman_ , either. Do you assume I’m asexual?”

“You had interest in me, and I steered clear because it wouldn’t be healthy for you,” she replies evenly.

“No, you steered clear because it wouldn’t be healthy for _you_ ,” Will sasses back. “Hannibal has been my friend, first. More than anything else. Everything that we’ve become has stemmed from friendship. Not doctor-patient privilege.”

“Alana, I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Hannibal says softly, looking at her so earnestly that Will looks away. “You were… a friend. I crossed a line because I missed him. I know that must hurt to hear, but I don’t want you to believe this is sudden. I’ve loved him for a long time.”

“I thought you loved me,” she replies, and Will is picking up so much hurt and heartache from her that he steps away. “Hannibal, this isn’t healthy. Surely you see that spending so much time with him like this is… obsessive?”

Hannibal licks his lip, scratching his chest as he turns to Will with a small smile. “I’ve missed him dearly. You’ll forgive me if I don’t want to be away from him just yet.”

“I think I need to report you to the board," she says eventually, and they both turn to her with surprise on their faces. 

“You’d report him for loving me?” Will asks with a clench of his fists. “You’d take away his whole reputation, his life, his career, all because of me? Alana, that’s not fair, and you know it. I’m in love with him. Don’t punish him for it.”

She turns to Will with a regretful expression on her face. “One week ago to the day, he and I spent the afternoon in his bed, Will. All day. This week he’s with you. You must see how that looks, don’t you?”

Jealously claws up his throat, gripping his chest so tightly that he can’t even form words for a few minutes. Whatever she sees in him makes her step away carefully, and he can’t even reign himself in, not even then.

“You should leave, Alana,” Hannibal interjects, and Will is feeling the spikes of unease rolling off of Hannibal at Alana’s admission. “Report me if you feel the need. It won’t make me leave him.”

She shakes her head while her eyes slide over Hannibal again. “I won’t report you. Will’s right, you don’t deserve to lose everything. I’m just asking you, Will, to think about this. You’re smarter than this.”

She turns and leaves immediately, and Will still can’t manage a word. “Will,” Hannibal says softly, touching the small of his back. “Please, you know-“

“I think you should go, too,” Will interrupts him, stepping away from him pointedly. “Please, Hannibal. _Go_.”

“Don’t let her do this, Will.” Hannibal pleads. “You _know_ how I feel about you. You know it, now come back to me.”

“Just go,” Will repeats again, closing himself off from Hannibal entirely. “Don’t you fucking kill her, either.”

Hannibal closes his eyes for a moment, but nods. He heads upstairs to get dressed, and Will gathers his dogs to head outside to take them for a walk. By the time he comes back, Hannibal is gone.

He doesn’t reach out to him that week, but Jack does when they come across the body of a woman in a horse. Will stays neutral with Hannibal, maintaining a professional relationship that he knows is hurting Hannibal just as much as it’s hurting him to do it. He misses him. God, he misses him. Work is in the way of it, at the moment. He fully intends to apologize, at some point. He’s just too stubborn to make the first move.

Will identifies with Peter Bernardone. He was Peter, at one point. Peter knows that the killer is Clark Ingram, but no one believes him. The cold, calculated, demeanor of Ingram tells Will that Peter is right, not that it matters. The courts care so little for the truth, after all.

Will wanted to kill him. He had his gun pointed and ready to take Ingram’s life. Hannibal stops him, of course. Despite the horror that Will wanted to inflict, Hannibal is ridiculously proud, and the feel of his palm against the side of Will’s face feels so calming and welcoming that Will leans into the touch, grounding him in the reality of what he was about to do.

Ingram gets away with all that he’s done, while Peter is put on a psychiatric hold at a mental hospital. The irony isn’t lost on Will.

He goes to Hannibal’s office the next day, and Hannibal greets him warmly as he walks in. There’s a distance between them that Will doesn’t especially care for, but he doesn’t know how to bridge the gap. “You cut your hair,” Hannibal notes sourly.

“Time for a change,” Will replies evenly.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Hannibal speaks. “Have you had time to regret your actions, yesterday?”

“Regret?” Will asks with a grin. “Yes, I regret what happened yesterday.”

“You see now that killing him would have been a mistake,” Hannibal notes with a tilt of his head. 

“Oh, no,” Will licks his lips, sliding his eyes over Hannibal’s body as he sits across from him. “You misunderstand. My only regret is allowing you to stop me.”

“You wish that I would have let you? Will, you’d be arrested again.”

“He deserved what I wanted to give him,” Will replies. 

“In time,” Hannibal promises him. “We have to let the dust settle, and then we can give him the end that he deserves.”

Will arches an eyebrow at him, smiling gently. “Yeah?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes.”

“Have you thought of me?” Will asks him, tilting his head as he grips the arms of the leather chair. 

Hannibal smiles softly, averting his eyes. “I’ve thought of you every moment, Will.” The admission makes Will’s heart constrict, and he bites his lip to keep from blurting out that he loves him. “Have you thought of me, Will?”

Will smiles, but it’s a hollow thing. “You’re the only thing I think about, Hannibal. I just need time.”

“You can take all the time you need,” Hannibal assures him, but his eyes tell Will that he’s miserable about it. Will understands entirely. 

Will leaves his session feeling a little bit lighter than he did going in, where he runs into Margot Verger. 

It’s a quick exchange, and he barely thinks about it as he gets into his car.

He’s back at his house the following night, standing on the porch while his dogs run through the dark, snow-covered, yard, when an expensive car rolls up his driveway. His first thought is Hannibal, but the car isn’t right.

Margot Verger was a surprise, and he still isn’t sure why she stopped by even after she left. Mostly questions about Hannibal, and Will knows he’s going to have to tell him to relax a bit with his persuasions. Margot is picking up on his tactics, and he doesn’t need additional scrutiny right now.

He keeps meaning to go to Hannibal. He wants to forgive him and tell him he’s sorry for pulling away like this. Every day that rolls by makes it more and more awkward, so he doesn’t. 

A series of animal mutilations keeps him busy for a few days, and seeing Hannibal at the crime scene is like a punch to the gut. He wants to pull him aside and apologize, but the opportunity for privacy doesn’t come. 

He leaves the lab and heads to Hannibal’s house unannounced, and Hannibal answers the door with a dry expression on his face. “Will, what a surprise.”

“Can I come in?” he asks awkwardly.

“Of course,” Hannibal says politely. Too politely. He’s got his armor up, and Will hates it.

Will comes in, and the warmth of his house feels like a balm to the icy cold that’s settled into his bones. Not all of it due to the weather. “I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, turning to Hannibal who looks withdrawn. 

“Whatever for?” Hannibal replies coolly, walking past him and into his kitchen. Will follows him, taking his coat off and his gloves, and then paces the kitchen as Hannibal dices vegetables at the counter. 

“You _know_ what for,” Will sasses back harshly, and he sighs. “I… I doubted you. Alana made me doubt you. Us. I shouldn’t have let her do that. I… I miss you.”

Hannibal pauses his dicing to look up at Will with a guarded expression. “You withdrew from me.”

“And I’m sorry,” Will says softly, scrubbing a hand across his face. “It was so… warm in the little bubble that we made that weekend. The harsh reality of someone bursting it… of Alana reminding me how close the two of you were… I was jealous. So fucking jealous.”

“We weren’t close,” Hannibal replies as he resumes dicing an onion. “A physical relationship does not allude to emotional intimacy. I was distant while she was attached. I failed to notice her attachment, which is where my mistake lies.”

“Your mistake was fucking her in the first place,” Will spits out acidly. 

Hannibal’s shoulders tense, and he glances up at Will with a hard expression. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

“Is there any recovering from this, or should I just go?” Will asks abruptly.

“You think that your jealousy makes me love you any less?” Hannibal asks him, and Will softens at the question whether he wants to or not. “It does not.”

“You’re angry, though,” Will presses on, pacing the space of the kitchen again. “You have the right to be angry.”

“As do you,” Hannibal agrees, glancing up at Will with the first tiny smile he’s received from him in at least a week. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. Believe me when I tell you that I understand how what she said sounds. I would have likely killed you, should the situation have been reversed.”

“Sweet of you,” Will replies bitterly. 

“Truthful,” Hannibal amends carefully. “If you give me the time, I’ll make it up to you.”

Will walks around the counter, touching Hannibal’s hip and turning his body towards his own. Hannibal looks… wary, but he doesn’t pull away when Will leans up and kisses him. It feels euphoric to press his mouth against Hannibal’s again. His familiar flavor and scent make Will sigh, tipping his face to deepen the kiss while Hannibal abandons his dicing to tug Will closer. Will pulls away, pressing soft kisses to his lips as he leans back only far enough to see his eyes. “Forgive me for being a jealous dick, please.”

“Forgive me for bedding Alana, when you are all I want,” Hannibal sighs, leaning forward to kiss Will again.

Will pulls away, gripping Hannibal’s hip in one hand and his jaw in his other. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” he admits quietly. “In ten years, when we’re still fucking like rabbits, she’ll be a ghost from your past. Nothing more.”

Hannibal grins against his mouth while his palm slides up his back. “In ten years, Will? Long term plans, then.”

“When we’re old and arthritic in our bed, whatever we’ve done in our past won’t matter,” Will chuckles.

“Lifelong plans,” Hannibal smiles, tucking his fingers into Will’s shorn curls. “What a difference a week makes.”

“Do you see yourself without me?” Will asks softly, pressing gentle kisses along Hannibal’s jaw. “Do you want to be rid of me?”

“Never,” Hannibal replies easily while his hand slips down to span the width of the small of his back. His hands were huge, and the thought sends a shiver down Will’s spine. “I see myself with you until I no longer draw breath. You asked me that night if I felt this between us. This… current between us. Like electricity that’s found a way to ground itself,” Hannibal sighs while his mouth trails the curve of Will’s jaw.

“Yes,” Will agrees easily. “Just like that.”

Will’s phone ringing interrupts them, and Will pulls away with an apologetic expression. “Jack,” he greets with a sigh. 

“I’ll be right there,” Will replies to whatever Jack says and then he hangs up. “There’s been another animal attack.”

“Not an animal,” Hannibal replies softly. “A man that wishes to be an animal. I treated a boy a long time ago who suffered from a dysmorphic identity disorder. He was… very ill. He stopped coming for treatment as soon as he was old enough to have a say in it. He’d be a grown man, now.”

Will grimaces up at him. “Did you… encourage him to do this? How _many_ of us are there, Hannibal?”

“I did not encourage this, Will,” Hannibal replies, his face souring as he turns away from Will. “I tried to help him, but he did not want to be cured. His name was Randall Tier. I have no idea what he’s doing now, but I’d suggest looking in places where he’d have access to fossils.”

Will goes to the crime scene and looks at it through the lens of a man instead of an animal, and suddenly what Peter told him makes perfect sense. Man is the only animal that kills for the sake of killing.

He goes to Randall Tier alone, where he works in a natural history museum. Tier is fidgety, nervous. Will picks up his nervous ticks and recognizes them for what they are. 

Guilt. Omission. Hannibal was right.

Evidence, though, was lacking. He promises Randall that he’ll be in touch again and leaves to head home.

It’s no surprise that Will gets a visit from him. He hopes that Hannibal didn’t send him to Will, but he’s not sure of it as he stares down at Tier’s dead body in his living room. Only one way to find out.

Hannibal’s face is surprised when he walks in to Tier’s dead body on his dining table. The surprise is unmistakable to Will as he watches the flicker of shock roll into one of concern. “What happened?” he asks as his eyes dart all over Will’s body.

“He came to my house after I questioned him. He wore a suit made of fossils and crashed through my window to kill me.” Will replies evenly. “Did you send him to me, Hannibal?”

Hannibal’s mouth falls open, and the wave of resentment at the thought makes Will aware that he did not, even before Hannibal speaks. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore, or do you not believe that?”

Will doesn’t reply, but he looks away. “I killed him. Self-defense.”

“Did he hurt you? Your dogs?” Hannibal asks as he comes around the table to touch Will’s face, his arms. He lifts his hand gently and takes in the bruised and bleeding knuckles, holding his hand tenderly as he turns his wrist. 

“He got Buster, but he’ll be okay. Just scratches,” Will says softly, looking up into Hannibal’s eyes. “I killed him with my hands.”

“I see that,” Hannibal tugs his top lip between his teeth. “Let me tend to your hand, please.”

Will lets him clean his knuckles, his fingers gentle and worshipful as they clean and wash his wounds. Will feels… euphoric, but blank. Like a slate wiped clean. 

Hannibal notes his withdrawn demeanor and grips his wrist lightly. “Stay with me, Will.”

“Where else would I go?” Will asks, turning his head to look Hannibal in the eye. He doesn’t regret killing him at all, but his adrenaline has worn off, and his body aches. Tier might not have cut him, but the bones bruised him up when he landed on top of him, and he’s sore.

Will leans forward on autopilot, pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal kisses him back, and it’s soft. Sweet. Exactly what Will needs, and he leans forward again, allowing their lips to drag softly while Hannibal holds his battered hand in his long fingers. It doesn’t escalate, but it soothes Will, who up until that moment was feeling especially fragile. Hannibal laces his fingers through Will’s curls, pressing his mouth against his own more fully, and Will allows their tongues brush softly, grounding him back to earth. He pulls away reluctantly, glancing over to the dead body on the table.

“Help me bring him to the basement, please,” Hannibal asks after he’s finished wrapping Will’s knuckles.

Will turns to him in surprise. “Your basement?”

“One needs a place to work in private. My basement is that space.”

He helps Hannibal take Tier into the pantry, and Hannibal lifts a panel in the floor to reveal a set of stairs. Will cocks an eyebrow at him, grinning as they descend the staircase. They rest his body on a stainless-steel table, and Will looks around, noting all the medical instruments, fridges, and freezers. “Christ,” Will sighs, walking around the massive space.

“I never meant for you to see this,” Hannibal says while gathering some tools. “Perhaps it’s good that you do, though.”

Will opens a refrigerator and notes that it’s empty. Thank God. He opens a freezer and groans at all the vacuum sealed packages on the shelves and closes the door with a decisive click.

He helps take Tier apart. He helps to vacuum seal certain organs and parts. He does so with an unbelievable interest and fascination, and he knows, then, that he’s more like Hannibal than he’d ever have guessed. “What will you do with all the parts that are left behind?” Will asks once they’ve finished.

Hannibal looks at Will carefully before answering. “I burn them in my incinerator.”

Will laughs, but it’s without humor. “Of course, you have an incinerator. This room, Hannibal. It needs to be dismantled. If Jack manages to get a warrant, you’re fucked.”

Hannibal nods, glancing around his space. “I will start getting rid of things this week. Perhaps I’ll convert the space into a wine cellar, for now. I have some… meats to get rid of. Perhaps you’ll join me for dinner a few times this week after work?”

Will pauses, swallowing tightly at the implication of such a request. An invite to eat evidence. Other people. Knowingly. Willingly.

“Sure,” Will replies eventually. “Yes, Hannibal.”

Hannibal smiles softly, removing his gloves and his strange plastic suit. “Will you stay tonight?”

“I want to,” Will replies quickly, touching the side of Hannibal’s face with his fingers. “God, Hannibal, I want to. I have a broken window at my house and it’s below zero outside. I have to head home and fix it so my dogs don’t freeze to death.”

“Tomorrow night, then,” Hannibal assures him, leaning forward to press his mouth against Will’s, who returns the kiss softly. 

“Tomorrow,” he agrees easily.

Except tomorrow doesn’t happen, because he’s at work trying to track down Randall Tier, who’s suspected of fleeing after Will’s interview with him. He calls Hannibal to tell him what’s going on, and Hannibal promises him that they can pick up where they left off tomorrow night. 

It leaves a bitterness in his mouth while Jack, Brian, and Jimmy try to track down bank statements, phone records, and anything else that will show where Tier might have gone. They’re not going to find him on a plane, and the knowledge that Will is here for no reason makes him resentful that it’s keeping him from Hannibal. His whole life right down to where he lives keeps him from seeing Hannibal, and it makes him distracted. Frustrated.

“Are we keeping you from something, Will? Is this fugitive getting in the way of your life, somehow?” Jack asks him resentfully. 

Will shakes his head, “No, sorry. Just not sleeping well.”

The answer gives Will the out he needs, as Jack dismisses him and tells him to get some rest.

He arrives home just after ten to find Margot Verger sitting in his driveway, a grim look of determination on her face as she asks to be let in.

She comes onto him, and he pulls away with a laugh. “I don’t have the right parts, Margot,” he tells her. “And honestly, as of late, neither do you.”

She steps away from him with a surprised arch of her eyebrow. “You’re…?”

“Not picky,” Will replies with a chuckle. “But I’m… seeing someone.”

She continues to unbutton her shirt as though he hasn’t spoken, and Will stops her with his hands. “Margot, no.”

She leans forward and presses her lips to his quickly, and he steps back from her immediately. “Okay, I think you should go.”

She looks properly chastised, but she does leave. The encounter leaves him reeling, and he feels like he’s done something wrong even if he hasn’t.

He’s driving to Hannibal’s house before he can really think about what he’s doing, using his key to let himself in. He sheds his jacket and shoes in the darkened foyer, going upstairs and directly into Hannibal’s room. Hannibal sits up from the bed immediately, adorably rumpled from sleep as he sits on the side of the bed, shirtless. Will undresses down to his boxers and climbs into the empty side of the bed, settling out in the soft sheets and warmth that smells exactly like Hannibal. 

Hannibal eases back into the bed, turning to him with a sleepy frown. “What happened, Will?”

“Margot Verger was at my house when I got home from work,” he replies evenly. “She wanted me to fuck her. You wouldn’t know why that is, would you?”

He’s not sure of anything. Would Hannibal send her to him to test his loyalty? Would he think something like that of Will? The thought bothers him more than he cares to admit.

Hannibal sits up, resting on his elbow as he looks down at Will in the dwindling light from the fireplace. “She wanted you to fuck her?” he asks, as though he’s not sure he heard Will correctly.

“She kissed me. She tried to take her shirt off. I imagine that’s what she wanted,” Will grits out. “Did you send her to me to test me, Hannibal?”

Hannibal flops back to his pillow, a resigned expression on his face. “I don’t know how many more ways I need to tell you this, but I have no interest in manipulating you, Will. No, I didn’t send her to you. Margot wants an heir. She likely came to you for help in that department.”

Will grunts as he shifts over in the bed, nestling his chilly body against the radiant heat of Hannibal’s own. Hannibal accepts him eagerly, wrapping him in his arms and tucking him against his chest. “She came to the wrong person for that,” Will laughs, pressing a kiss over Hannibal’s heart.

“Clearly,” Hannibal agrees while his fingers trail the length of Will’s naked spine. “You had your mouth on her, Will?”

“ _She_ had her mouth on _me_ , and it was for a second while I realized what the hell she wanted with me,” Will responds tartly. “No one comes to me for a booty call, Hannibal. I was… out of my element.”

Hannibal growls as he rolls them over, pressing his mouth to Will’s harshly, their teeth clicking as he plunders Will’s mouth. Will allows it because he’d do the same thing if the situation were reversed. His hands are wandering Will’s chest and his waist, gripping him harshly while his mouth continues its violent assault, and Will arches into him, pressing closer, kissing deeper. The possessiveness feels like a comfort. Knowing Hannibal can be just as jealous as Will can be is a relief. 

Will rolls them over, pressing Hannibal into the mattress as they kiss, gripping one another desperately closer. He feels amazing under Will, and Will wants him in his mouth.

He trails bruising kisses down his chest, nipping at the swell of his abdomen affectionately before settling between Hannibal’s thighs and tugging his pajama pants off aggressively. “I’ve been thinking about this for two weeks, now,” Will admits with a chuckle. “We were in the middle of something.”

“Will,” Hannibal moans as Will sucks him down his throat. God, he loved this. Loved wrecking him like this. He glances up as he sucks him roughly, and Hannibal’s face is flushed, his mouth parted. The firelight makes him glow golden and beautiful, and Will loves him fiercely. 

He pulls away at the flare of jealousy that reminds him why it’s been two weeks, glaring up at Hannibal as he jerks his cock. “Did Alana do this for you?” he asks bitterly.

Hannibal drops his head to the pillow as Will sucks him back down, rolling his testicles in his palm as he deep throats him. Hannibal isn’t responding, and Will lets his teeth drag gently, earning a flinch from Hannibal as he pulls away. “Did she?”

“Yes,” Hannibal replies cautiously as Will wraps his lips around him again, gripping his hip hard enough to bruise. He pulls away again, glaring up at him while he continues stroking him with his hand.

“Was she good? Better than me?” Will asks, then drags the flat of his tongue roughly against the sensitive head of Hannibal’s cock, suckling the head while retaining eye contact. 

“No,” Hannibal moans, tipping his head back as Will sinks back down over him. “Only you, Will. Only you,” Hannibal pants, thrusting his hips gently into Will’s mouth. Will grips him from behind his knees, folding him in half while his mouth trails to his entrance. He suckles it roughly, plunging his tongue inside of him possessively, and Hannibal whines. 

Will blows on the muscle, watching it flutter against the cool air. “You’re _mine_ ,” he breathes.

He tugs Hannibal up, rolling him onto his stomach, but facing the mirror in the corner of the room. He taps Hannibal’s hip, urging him to his knees while Will spreads his cheeks and dives back in, tonguing his entrance and suckling it alternatingly. Hannibal rocks against his face, and Will grins as he nips at his ass. “Yours,” Hannibal agrees.

Will reaches towards the end table for the lube, coating his fingers that are shaking from the desire to be inside of Hannibal, already. He preps him quickly, maybe too quickly, but he’s about to come untouched, and he doesn’t want that, either.

He presses into him, and Hannibal drops to his elbows as Will slides in. He’s so fucking tight Will feels like he’s about to come, so he reaches down and grips the base of his cock harshly. Pain brings him back enough to keep sliding in after a moment. “You almost just made me finish before we started,” Will panted against his back. “The things you do to me.”

He seats himself inside of Hannibal, spreading Hannibal’s thighs a bit to pull him up to a seated position on his thighs. Hannibal arches his back, resting his head against Will’s shoulder. “So full of you, Will,” he moans, rolling his hips in a slow circle. Will presses kisses to the nape of his neck, one of his hands coming around Hannibal’s waist to rest against his stomach, running his fingers gently against the soft swell of it.

He feels a ripple of self-consciousness from Hannibal. It’s barely there, and it’s fleeting, but it’s enough that Will recognizes it as he feels it. Hannibal grabs his hand, moves it up towards his chest, and Will bites his shoulder. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Will warns him, thrusting up into him harshly to get his point across.

Hannibal lets his hand go reluctantly, and Will places it back where he wants it. Hannibal reaches for his cock as he rides Will, his eyes closed in pleasure while Will holds him, caressing his chest and his stomach while Hannibal finds his pleasure. “Open your eyes,” Will breathes as he watches them over Hannibal’s shoulder in the mirror. “Look at us,” he pleads.

Hannibal’s eyes open slowly, as if he’s just realizing the way that Will’s positioned them. Hannibal’s body is highlighted by firelight, his cock flushed and hard in his grip as he straddles Will’s kneeling thighs. Hannibal watches their reflection, a low moan escaping his throat as Will thrusts up with every downward roll of Hannibal’s hips. “You are _beautiful_ ,” Will praises him, running his pale hand down Hannibal’s chest, then his stomach. He grips him there, tugging him tighter against his body while his other hand swats Hannibal’s away so he can stroke him instead. “Your skin,” Will pants against his ear, flicking his tongue out to taste the skin under it. “Your scent,” he says pointedly while breathing in deeply at the nape of his neck. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. Look at your body, Hannibal,” he gasps, trailing his hand from his stomach to his corded thigh, gripping any part of him that he could reach.

Sex with Hannibal is unlike anything Will has ever experienced. He knows he’s ruined for anyone else now, and the thought makes him grin as he thrusts into his beloved. Hannibal loves him. He can feel it with every shift of his body, every heated glance between them. Hannibal’s not thinking of anything other than Will, and it makes it ridiculously emotional. Unrealistically hot.

Hannibal moans, and his hips pick up their pace, while Will jerks him in time with it. Their eyes hold one another in the mirror while they find their pleasure, occasionally drifting off to look at their bodies as they clash together. Hannibal lets out a gravelly moan as he comes, falling forward to his elbows as his body clenches around Will’s length. Will grips his hips and adjusts his knees before snapping his hips, the wet sounds of skin slapping filling the room lewdly.

Will tips his head back, pounding into Hannibal roughly as he gets lost in the pleasure of it. Hannibal’s body still milking him through aftershocks as he slams into him. “Oh,” Will moans, gliding out almost fully before slamming back in. “You feel fucking good, Hannibal,” he whines, thrusting desperately as the heat travels from his gut to his balls, drawing them tight against his body. He glances at the mirror and finds Hannibal watching him while panting, his eyes devouring Will’s body as he thrusts inside of him. His long fingers are twisted in the sheets, his mouth parted as Will takes him apart.

The sight of it slingshots him over the edge, and he pounds into Hannibal as he comes, pumping it into Hannibal’s body long after he’s finished. He keeps thrusting gently even after he’s done, and the over-sensitivity of it makes him tremble as he watches Hannibal’s tight entrance suck him inside. 

Eventually it feels too painful, and he stills his movements, draping himself across Hannibal’s spine where he can press kisses to the damp skin. “Christ,” Will says drowsily.

Hannibal straightens his legs carefully, and Will moves with him so they’re laying tightly together on their side, Will still buried inside of him, even as he softens. “I love you, Will,” Hannibal says softly, reaching for Will’s hand that’s resting against his stomach. Will wants to protest as Hannibal drags his hand up, pressing kisses to his fingers. He doesn’t, though. 

“You know I love you,” Will chuckles, pressing damp kisses along Hannibal’s shoulder blade. “All of you. Every single bit, inside and out.”

Hannibal rolls away from him, turning to press his mouth against Will’s own. The kiss is soft and deep, his fingers tangling in Will’s curls while they sip at each other’s mouths. Will pulls away briefly, resting their foreheads together. “Let’s find a place where we can live together.”

Hannibal nods, pressing another kiss to Will’s mouth. “I’ll live with you, Will. Your stream is there. You love your house. I have no specific attachment to mine.”

“You’d live with me in Wolf Trap?” Will asks with a disbelieving laugh. “Really?”

“I’ll live wherever you are,” Hannibal agrees easily. “Your home is lovely, Will. A new kitchen and I’ll be as happy there as anywhere else.”

"If that’s all it takes, get your stainless-steel fridge, then,” Will grins, trailing his fingers down Hannibal’s side. 

Hannibal chuckles, lacing his fingers through Will’s curls. “They make Smeg fridges in stainless.”

Will laughs, closing his eyes as Hannibal presses kisses to his cheeks. “We have to do something about your murder basement." 

“I’ve already started getting rid of the instruments, and the incinerator will be scrapped. I won’t be cashing the checks for anything I sell, as I figure that would be a bad idea.”

“Yeah, it would,” Will agrees with a sigh. “Okay, I’ll go to the lumber yard tomorrow and get some oak. Build you some wine racks.”

“Mahogany, please. I have some semblance of taste,” Hannibal chastises with a chuckle.

“Mahogany, then,” Will concedes with a roll of his eyes.

The following weeks, Will spends most of his time in Hannibal’s basement, scrubbing it clean and building wine racks. Hannibal buys cases of wine to fill them, and an enormous wine fridge to hold the ones that need to be kept at a certain temperature. Will drywalls the room and installs flooring, and within the month it looks like it’s always been a posh wine cellar, equipped with extra refrigerator and freezer for extra room. Hannibal comes downstairs to see it and smiles as Will stands with his hands on his hips, looking around. “You did a beautiful job,” he praises.

“Thanks,” Will grins, leaning into Hannibal’s embrace. “So you’re selling the house with the wine collection in it?”

“For appearances sake, yes,” Hannibal nods. “I’ll take the ones that are the most valuable, of course.”

“Even if Jack decides to rip out the floors, he won’t find a thing. I’ve scrubbed this place sterile and used a black light to make sure of it.”

“There might be evidence in the drains,” Hannibal replies warily, glancing at the sink in the corner of the room. 

“Nope,” Will chuckles. “New plumbing. I bleached the lines that go further than I can replace.”

“Thorough,” Hannibal laughs.

“Would there be anything upstairs to worry about?” Will asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“No, I’ve gotten rid of all my old cutting boards, and I’ve thrown away anything that might contain trace evidence.”

“I doubt he’ll get a warrant, but he might ask permission. We’re ready, if and when he does.” Will grins.

Will and his dogs spent a few days in Hannibal’s house while his own gets a little facelift. Hannibal redoes his kitchen and tears out a few walls, creating an open living area and kitchen. It’s still Will’s taste, with the light oak cabinets and the white quartz counters. The kitchen island seats two and looks out into the wide dining area and living area. Some of Hannibal’s art has come to the house, but Will refuses to have Leda and the Swan in his dining area, no matter how much Hannibal pouts.

The bathrooms get redone, too, and Will is in love with their new shower. He can’t wait to get Hannibal in the bright room, naked, so they can try out the bench in the shower wall.

The living area is painted in muted greens and cream white, the floors sanded and refinished in the same light color as his kitchen cabinets. He thought it would feel invasive to have his space redone this way. Instead it finally feels good to come home, his house warm and inviting when he steps in the door. Hannibal has the fireplace fixed and cleaned, and now there’s always a fire going, warming the space and casting it in a welcoming glow. It makes it even better to come home and find Hannibal in the kitchen, his apron tied around his narrow waist and his shirtsleeves rolled up crisply, grinning when Will walks in the door. 

The backroom turns into a study where Hannibal has gorgeous oak built-ins put in floor to ceiling. All of Hannibal’s and Will’s books fit in the space. There’s still enough room for a desk for Hannibal to work at, as well as a table where Will can build his lures. The wall has mounts for all of his fishing gear, displayed in a way that he’s surprised Hannibal allows. It’s unsightly, but Hannibal seems to like looking at them. As if he’s pleased to find evidence of Will living with him this way.

Their first official week in their house, Alana stops by. She looks… happy for them, almost. She accepts a beer from Hannibal, the last of his special brew for her. After that, she’d be drinking Sam Adams like Will does. If she visits again, that is.

Jack stops by at the end of the week, whistling as he walks into their home. “Wow,” he breathes. “Really different than the last time I was here, Will.”

“Yeah,” Will grins while Hannibal tucks him against his body. “If I want him here, there needs to be a decent kitchen.”

“I hope you’ll stay for dinner?” Hannibal asks, and Jack bites his lip. 

“What’s on the menu?” Jack asks carefully.

“Trout that Will caught earlier today,” Hannibal replies, glancing down at Will with a soft expression. 

“Oh,” Jack nods. “Sure, that sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

Dinner goes smoothly until Jack clears his throat. “Listen, there’s still a lot of buzz around you, Doctor Lecter. Perhaps you’d allow a crew to go into your Baltimore home? Put the idea of you being the Ripper out of everyone’s minds once and for all?”

Hannibal frowns, sipping his pinot grigio elegantly. “I wasn’t aware that was still a notion that people believed.”

“It’s not,” Jack assures him, grimacing as he realizes his contradiction. “It would be just to… put it to bed, so to speak.”

“He has nothing to hide,” Will says slowly, twirling his glass against the oak table. “Go ahead. Right, darlin’?”

Hannibal nods, tipping his head towards Will with a grin. “Of course.”

Jack gets a crew in the house the next day, and after seven hours of swabbing, they don’t find a fucking thing.

Hannibal and Will stand with their arms crossed, each wearing indignant expressions on their faces. “Thank you for your cooperation,” Jack says reluctantly, glancing around the room as though hoping to find a body dangling from somewhere. 

“I hope this puts to rest this silly idea,” Hannibal replies sternly.

“That wine cellar is gorgeous, didn’t even know it was there,” Jack says with a guarded expression, ignoring Hannibal’s comment.

“I buy cases of wine, Jack. One must have a place for them.”

“Where will you put them in Will’s house?” he wonders idly. 

“My basement needs an upgrade, but eventually they’ll go down there. Once we get around to making a room for it,” Will interjects, lacing his fingers with Hannibal’s own.

Jack watches them with a… pinched expression on his face, turning away from them eventually. “Thank you, Doctor Lecter. Your patience in this was appreciated.”

“Of course,” Hannibal smiles. 

Months go by, and Hannibal is sitting at his desk with the windows open, letting in the warm summer air. Will finds him in the study, grinning as he wraps his arms around his neck. He presses a kiss to his cheek as he looks to see what he’s doing.

There’s a gorgeous sketch on the desk. A church, he guesses, by the high arched ceilings and the intricate mosaic patterns that Hannibal has captured beautifully. “Gorgeous,” Will breathes, touching the corner of the page gently. Hannibal turns his face and kisses him soundly, and Will smiles against his mouth. 

“It is,” Hannibal remarks, staring pointedly at Will as he agrees with him. Will blushes, turning his face back to the sketch. 

“No,” he laughs. “ _This_. This is gorgeous.”

“The foyer of my mind palace,” Hannibal says with a smile. “The Norman Chapel.”

“Jesus,” Will breathes. “What does it look like, in color?”

Hannibal points to various parts of the sketch, “Gold, jewel tones, white marble,” he says as his finger glides over the paper. “The stained glass creates a riot of color in the afternoon sunlight. It’s… beautiful.”

“That’s where we go next, when you’re ready,” Will promises him, coming around to plop himself in Hannibal’s lap. Hannibal wraps his arms around him, tucking him close. 

“Marry me,” he says softly, pressing kisses to Will’s jawline. “Please.”

Will turns to him, his eyes shimmering. “Took you long enough,” he chuckles. He’s had an idea this was coming for a few weeks now. Hannibal stares at him with such heat and longing in his gaze that Will thought he was going to ask way before this.

Hannibal laughs, pressing kisses to his mouth and his cheeks while Will holds his face in his hands. “I don’t want to be apart from you, ever. Not for a moment, Will.”

“I don’t want that, either.” Will agrees, sliding his fingers into Hannibal’s hair. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal kisses him deeply, and Will laughs as Hannibal devours his mouth. He’s happy. Ridiculously happy. He knows there’s still some things that need to be worked out. Hannibal is going to kill again, and Will most likely will join him. It’s not on their to do list for now. It won’t be a problem for them when it is, either.

If they ever have to leave, they will. Will knows already that he’ll die trying to keep Hannibal by his side. There’s no price that’s too high to keep him. He’d jump from a cliff if it meant having Hannibal in his arms for another moment. He’d let Hannibal gut him if that’s what he needed to do to prove himself. 

None of that is necessary, though. He has all he wants, and he’ll hold onto it with white knuckles if he must.

**Author's Note:**

> So the story that Hannibal tells Will about Mischa is as close to the books as I could get without including Nazi's. It's horrible, but mostly accurate, as far as the books are concerned. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this nonsense. I enjoyed writing it. <3


End file.
